


Maidens and Monsters

by kitkatkaylie



Series: Everything is beautiful and nothing hurts [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Family Feels, Gen, Protective Robb Stark, Robb Stark Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23855962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkatkaylie/pseuds/kitkatkaylie
Summary: The sound of steel clashing upon steel echoed through the halls of the Red Keep and the streets of Kings Landing. Direwolf banners advanced on the Red Keep and the court within.Sansa prayed for the invaders to succeed, for them to take her home.
Relationships: Robb Stark & Sansa Stark
Series: Everything is beautiful and nothing hurts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1752277
Comments: 4
Kudos: 160





	Maidens and Monsters

The sound of steel clashing upon steel echoed through the halls of the Red Keep and the streets of Kings Landing.

Sansa cowered with the rest of the women and children, a toddler curled in her arms for his mother had become so distraught she had been dosed with milk of poppy. The Queen had sneered at her when she saw the child in her arms, but had not said anything, for which Sansa was grateful.

She knew she was the only one in the room praying that the invaders would succeed, that the doors would bust open to reveal banners without the Lannister lion on them. The thought of seeing the banners of her brother, he who had come for her, to rescue her from her captors, it was a sweet though indeed, one that overrode any fear she had of the battle.

The Queen had said she would never release Sansa to her brother, that she would snuff out her life herself before giving Robb that victory, and Sansa believed her. It was one of the reasons she held the toddler so close, even though it would not do anything to stall the Queen’s hand, the child gave her an excuse to sit away from her.

Those few moments of distance might just be enough to save her, should it come to it.

So many thoughts swirled through her head, dark contemplations of whether she would prefer to see Joffrey’s head taken by Robb, or whether she would prefer him to be shot down fleeing from the battle.

It was a difficult choice really, all she knew was that she wanted him dead.

There was a great clattering, the sound of footsteps and armour and weaponry, just outside of the doors. Sansa was not stupid, she knew what became of women in wartime, but she had done all she could to ensure her heritage was blatant.

Her hair was braided as her mother did hers, Northern braids, so different from the elaborate styles of Kings Landing, and while her gown was a dusky purple, it was simpler in design than those worn by the other ladies. The last she knew her hair had also been the colour of Robb’s and her mother’s, something that should be noticeable by any man from the North or Riverlands.

In truth she was far safer than any other lady, for she knew her brother and mother would have put warnings in place to safeguard her, knew that they would fiercely punish any man who dared to touch her; although it did not make the fear leave completely.

A pounding began on the doors, shaking them with the force of each blow, and a terrified murmur made its way through the hall. Someone was trying to break in.

As the tip of a spear made its way through the door, a silence fell upon the hall, every woman and child within waiting with baited breath.

And then, Sansa’s wishes came true, for the doors flew open to reveal direwolf banners, and men with Northern features flooded through the doors.

Chaos broke out.

The ladies scrambled away, pressing themselves against the walls as though hoping to hide from the blood-soaked men in Northern armour that entered. Any Lannister soldier that tried to stand before them was cut down with brutal efficiency, until their blood pooled on the red marble of the floor; and yet, despite the violence not one woman was touched.

Sansa tried to scramble towards them, the toddler still in her arms, praying that she would soon see her brother, that he would step through those doors and swing her up in his arms like he had when they were little and playing games of rescue.

Just as a helmeted man, crowned with bronze spikes stepped through the door the toddler was ripped from her grip and her arms were caught up in a hold too strong for her to break out of, no matter how she writhed and kicked.

“You aren’t getting away that easily, little dove.” Cersei hissed in her ear, and Sansa fell limp. She was stupid to think she would ever escape, stupid to think that her brother would be able to rescue her.

And yet even the grip of Cersei, the knowledge that Robb had managed to make it into the Red Keep for her, the knowledge that she had not been abandoned kept a small kernel of hope alive.

“Robb!” Sansa cried, the nails of Cersei’s hands digging painfully into her shoulder, “Robb!”

Her brother turned to her, his helmet held in one hand so his face was visible, his face so very familiar, and yet showing the time they had spent apart. He had a beard, part of her noted as she drank in his features, one that was far fuller than the scraggly hairs he had sported as she had ridden out of Winterfell.

“Sansa?” His voice shook the room, loud enough to shock the frightened women into silence. He moved as if to step forwards, to rush to her; but froze when a cruel voice rang out and a cold blade pressed against her throat.

“Take one step closer Stark,” Cersei sneered, “And your pretty little sister won’t get to see another day.”

Robb stared at her with helpless eyes, and Sansa tried to smile back comfortingly. If she was to die, at least it was with the knowledge that her brother had won, that he had come for her.

Everything seemed to slow, the noise and fuss of the background fading as she focused solely on her brother, solely upon the first member of her family she had seen since their father’s death.

And then, and then, an arrow.

An arrow fletched with the black and gold feathers she recognised from so long ago, fletched in the way that Theon had always preferred, an arrow that stuck out from Cersei’s shoulder, forcing her to drop the knife.

Sansa did not wait, as soon as the lack of knife registered, as soon as the grip on her shoulder released, she ran. Ran over the bodies on the floor, the blood-stained marble, until she was wrapped up in Robb’s arms again.

She did not care for the blood on his armour and the way it would surely stain the silk of her dress, she did not care that he smelt of death and blood and metal, not when beneath it all he smelt like home. His arms wrapped around her, lifting her up like she was as small as Rickon and cradling her to his chest.

“I have you Sansa, you are safe now.” He crooned to her as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “No one is going to hurt you again, not while we’re here.”

Sansa lifted her eyes enough so she could see Theon, his usual smirk on his face, and yet he seemed more grounded than he ever had before, more at ease than he ever had when they were all at Winterfell.

“Aye, no one will hurt you little princess. No while Robb and I are here, and Snow I suppose.” Theon’s tone was kinder than she had heard it before, gentle as though he was approaching a frightened animal.

“Theon, thank you.” Robb said, something passing between them that Sansa did not understand, the weight of a memory and perhaps an argument that had started to settle with those words.

As Sansa started to calm a little, Theon’s words registered, “Jon? Is Jon here?”

Robb bounced her ever so slightly, as he had always done to calm Rickon, “He’s at Winterfell sweetling, caring for Bran and Rickon. I had the power to pardon him from the Wall, so I did so. Traded him for a number of the Freys when they tried to betray me and sent him to ensure our brothers stay safe.”

“Arya?” She knew it was stupid to ask about her sister, Arya was dead. she had to be dead.

Her brother started to carry her from the hall, Theon at his back, and there was a pause long enough that Sansa started to panic. Had she upset him with her words? Would he leave her behind because she upset him?

“Arya is safe. She’s with mother at the moment, at Riverrun.” Robb said, once they were out in the sunshine, “She yelled at me for not coming for you, and put dung in all of my boots.”

That, that sounded so much like Arya that Sansa actually started to laugh. Laughter that soon turned into great heaving sobs as all her fear and worry and relief could not be contained any longer.

Robb curled her closer and stroked her hair as she cried, and Sansa found she cared little for how indecorous she must have looked. Her brother had come for her and she was going home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Feel free to come talk with me about this fic or just in general on tumblr @istaricelebelasse


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